Dust Bunny
by Killer Moth
Summary: Abbie, at last, grants a long awaited fantasy of Jack's. A Jack centric lemon to celebrate Sam Waterston's birthday. Rated M for major sexual themes.


Disclaimer: Don't own them.

Author's Note: Drawing inspiration from a recent Tango magazine article featuring an Angie Harmon and Jason Sehorn interview. Like I did with "A New York Tradition", I'm taking an aspect of Angie's life and playfully distorting it for our purposes. But this wouldn't be possible without three special people. See dedication below.

Beta: You know the drill.

Dedication: To Moonbeamdancer and fear-ciuil, for demonstrating I have an audience with these things. And a certain nod to lupinskitten and her initial commentary regarding my plans to write this — I'm just proving the impossible with the gift of fanfiction.

Finally, happy 66th birthday to Sam Waterston, without whom this wouldn't be possible.

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An alarm clock blared through the tranquil silence of a typical bedroom. Both of its occupants groaned in their fluttering towards consciousness.

"If I could, I would take the day off in a heart beat," New York's finest E.A.D.A. bewailed as he draped his arm over his female company.

"You wish; I know I would," his former assistant-cum-girlfriend groggily rejoined.

"Gee, you'd think they'd let a guy off on his birthday." Jack stretched his slumbering muscles.

"It's the criminal justice system, Jack; you know better." Abbie instinctively buried her head against her pillow.

"Yeah. How many years until it falls on a Sunday?"

"Too many."

"Darn," he deadpanned before he crumbled on top of her.

A half hour later, the couple begrudgingly slipped out of their pajamas and into their work clothes. Jack was dressed in an ashen suit with a candy cane tie.

"You and your gray." Abbie rolled her eyes as she pulled up her obsidian skirt.

"And what do you call what you're wearing?" he gestured at her skirt. "You and your black."

"Yeah, but not all the time," the acerbic A.D.A. wrapped herself in a burgundy suit jacket. "Don't you ever get tired of being wrong, Jack?"

"I would be, if I were ever wrong."

"Right. I'll see you when you get home."

"I'm not picking you up?" he inquired in befuddlement.

"Not tonight. Boss needs me for a case, since the others don't have my 'experience'. That's how he put it."

"I'm sorry, Abbie, but that's a pretty flimsy ruse. You could just say you're getting my birthday present." His eyes glinted in the interrogation.

"No, Jack, I really have to work." Her visage froze in her solemnity. "I'll see you later, and we'll have a quiet night at home?" She buttoned up her jacket and fetched her erstwhile beige trenchcoat.

"Fine, but don't think you're off the hook." His eyes swiftly scanned her. "Your beige trenchcoat? Haven't seen that in ages."

"I'm just full of surprises." She taunted with a kiss while the two were on their way out.

"I guess I'll see you, then. Good luck with your 'boss'," he cheered dubiously.

"I think I know what I want my next birthday present to be."

"What?"

"To wipe that smug look off your face."

Jack snorted in amusement as the pair journeyed off to ply their craft.

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The day trudged on with two murder trials and five appeals. Jack finally stumbled back to his apartment, ready to collapse on any flat surface that will have him. He dropped his briefcase and motorcycle helmet on the floor.

"Abbie?" he cried out.

"I'm here. Stay there; I'm coming out," she verbalized from the direction of the bedroom. "Did anyone wish you a happy birthday?"

"A few. Arthur gave me a birthday bottle of scotch." He inclined against the door, drooping downward.

"That's good. I've never known you to turn down scotch," she mischievously jabbed.

"But, it won't be drinkable for another four years. I left it at the office."

"I wouldn't worry. You won't need it tonight, anyway."

"What the hell are you doing in there?"

"Getting your birthday present together," the passionate Texan enlightened seductively.

"I knew it." He brimmed in his self-satisfaction.

"Don't get cocky on me. Well, yet, anyway."

He reddened with anticipation. "I won't say anything else on the grounds that it may incriminate myself."

"Don't bother — you're going to need your ability to speak, because who else is going to give me orders, sir?" Abbie sashayed to the living room in a French chambermaid's outfit.

"Abbie…" For once, the senior prosecutor was speechless. He pored over the young woman's attire: a pallid corset with matching ruffled skirt cut mid-thigh. The only splashes of color were the onyx sleeves, stockings with corresponding high heels, choker, and a bow tied over the corset's cups. The experience was complete with a whitish bow adorned on top of her head and a common feather duster in her hand.

"So, sir, shall I dust off your briefcase for you?" she courteously solicited as she sauntered next to his fallen attaché case and dusted accordingly. Of course, the male couldn't escape the goading view of her generous cleavage.

"I'm sure my body will absolutely hate me for this, but I have to ask: what is this?" He couldn't peel his eyes off of her.

"Your birthday present: I recalled you once saying one of your fantasies involved a French maid. You'll forgive me if I don't do the accent."

"Yeah, but, Abbie, I didn't expect…"

"My image; I know. But, given how you've shown me that image _isn't_ everything — not to mention you certainly deserve it for putting away the scum of New York everyday — I want to put your theory into practice. I want to have 'fun', as strange as that might sound," she forebodingly simpered.

He maintained one eye on her countenance and another on her chest. "I appreciate that, Abbie, but subservient maid? This isn't you."

"That's the point, Jack. I'll deny it to my dying day, sure, but for tonight, I'll be the subservient maid for you," she reached over to kiss him. "Now, if you keep talking like this, you're going to ruin it as it's taxing me to keep a straight face."

"I'm going to pay for this, aren't I?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. So, sir?" she shifted back into character. "What else shall I dust? Your helmet?"

He waggled his head in disbelief. "Abbie, you don't have to…."

"Let me put it this way: if I didn't love you, you know I would _never_ do this. What can assuage you, Jack? I _want_ to do this. However, I do thank you for wanting me to stop, even though, someone else wouldn't forgive you for that." She pointed to his mounting erection.

He appropriately squirmed and concealed himself with his hands. "You know, I could say 'no' to this, but you're so stubborn, you'll keep at this until I finally give in, while tormenting my libido along the way."

"Exactly. You know I wouldn't be doing this unless I knew what I was doing. I haven't lost my mind, Jack; I want to please you. What could be simpler?"

Her words inundated his mind and he realized the epiphany within. "What could be simpler? Alright, you can dust off my helmet."

"Yes, sir." She complied. "Anything else you would like me to dust off? Like your coffee table?" The enticing maid tottered to the adjacent table and bowed down to brush. Jack again obtained an eyeful as he noticed the intricate sallow bows on the stockings' lace and her discernable lack of underwear.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" she purred.

He arched an eyebrow and he sparked to life. "Yeah, I think I need a good dusting in the bedroom." The elder then drolly revolved his eyes at the statement.

"Yes, sir." She merrily skipped to the bedroom.

"Now, how long will it be before one of us cracks? I wish I had a stopwatch," he muttered to himself before he accompanied her.

"Your bed is almost done, sir," his servant confirmed whilst scouring the mattress on all fours.

"I have to say a job well done," he beamed in his approach to the divan.

"Is there anything else that needs cleaning, sir?" she crawled towards him. "Perhaps yourself?" she lustily suggested as she swept him off with the duster.

"You're really getting into this, aren't you?" He shuddered in her meticulous wiping.

"That's what indulgence does to you, Jack."

"I can't argue with that."

"So, then, sir? Must I repeat myself?" Abbie traced his crotch with the feather tips.

"I'm not sure if that type of cleaning is appropriate, Miss," he coyly reprimanded.

"I know, sir, but I just can't resist that strut of yours or those eyebrows."

"Well, few do." His innate arrogance surged forth.

"I know, and I can tell you need it, sir."

She scaled up and kissed the gentleman with her left hand rambling downhill. Her fingers gingerly patted down his inseam and an unfastening zipper sound was soon heard.

"Hard to believe I'd find someone so…" Two of her fingers slinked inside his fly and massaged his solidifying shaft. "Willing."

"You had to find the right one first."

His fading cognizant mind concurred with her. His ex-wives and lovers would not perform this desire without heavy-handed coaxing or on a whim: the by-product of being with volatile women. Whereas with Abbie, she was able and willing despite herself in the grievous sacrifice at hand. That aside, his body now exiled his brain for the obvious reasons.

"Actually, you're right. You know, I think we've gone as far as we can go with this and I could ask you to stop playing, but we've injected enough thought here. You're right, you know — my body does want this. And, apparently, I do, too," he pensively declared.

"You can inflate my ego later, after I take care of yours. We got the whole night ahead of us, _sir,_" she smiled before she delicately extracted him. She then clasped her hand around his organ and squeezed. A throaty moan later, he deftly removed his upper articles of clothing.

"Alright, my maid, it's time to earn your keep."

"Yes, sir," she seductively smirked as she gradually pumped him, her fingers caressing his foreskin. "I hope I'm doing a good job."

"You need to flatter yourself more," he grunted whilst he unbuckled his pants.

"That _is_ your job, sir."

"Oh, God, Abbie…"

"That's a start."

Her stroking amplified, much to Jack's blatant gratification. His sole reaction was an effortless kiss on the lips. The kiss hastily evolved into a French one while he cupped her toned derriere.

"Oh! Someone is being fresh," she leered.

"I want to return the favor."

He was ready to slide a finger inside her when she wiggled away. "No, sir. I want to please _you_ tonight." She sustained her hand motions in rapid tempo.

"Abbie…my maid, I'm going to cum soon if you keep that up."

"Not yet. You haven't had a proper cleaning."

The spitfire crouched to his nether regions and cautiously slathered him tip to base. She gaped upward to savor his quivering and her manipulations.

"Let's make you comfortable, sir."

She shoved him on the double bed and resumed her task on her knees. He propped himself with his elbows and parted open his legs for his "employee's" benefit. She striped off the final remnant of his garb with one hand and fondled his testicles with the other.

"Are you enjoying this?" she breathlessly questioned.

"Oh, yes."

"I'm sure you're ready to burst. Let's help with that." Her tongue lapped up the seeping amounts of pre-cum. A fleeting glance of his utter satisfaction was enough for her to up the ante and consume his throbbing flesh.

"Oh, Abbie!" the proud man roared.

The effect was not lost on her either as her wetness started to filter. She kneaded his pectorals' sinuous tissues with her hands even as she unhurriedly bobbled her head, further absorbing him. He wandered his eyes to her and spotted her adoring gaze. It was all he needed to drive him to the edge.

"I'm going to cum, my maid."

There was no response for she carried on with her ministrations. Her eyes were fixed on his tender expression as he spurted forth into her gathering mouth. She arose and gulped the remaining semen. She yearned to land into his waiting arms, if it weren't for one niggling item.

"Well, now, you had your fun, what about completing it and giving it to the hired help?" She crept towards her drained lover, their faces inches apart.

"Well, what kind of employer would I be, if I didn't?" He was set to descend upon her when she unexpectedly repositioned herself once again.

"I'm ready to skip additional foreplay tonight. I just want you, Jack; what could be simpler?"

Abbie sloped off to his side and waved her posterior in the air. A peek underneath her frilled skirt revealed her exuding slickness. He pondered for a moment.

"I should pay you back somehow. Besides, I need time to replenish myself." Jack tilted towards her and greedily slurped up her cleft's solutions. Now it was her turn to sob.

"Dirty pool," she whined.

"Blame it on the maid," he cackled as he inserted his tongue in her.

"I guess I should accept your…." She was unable to finalize her sentence due to another pleasurable outburst.

"'Bonus' works."

She slumped downhill, her body shivering. "Stop teasing. Besides, you can pay me back in full later."

He skidded onto her back and the pair caved in on the bed. He glided his hands to the cups of her corset and rubbed the apparel against her breasts. The hapless lady exploded from the sensuous friction.

"Served me right for wearing a corset," she squeaked out as the chafing commenced.

"I'd say you hanged yourself there, 'Hang 'Em Higher' Carmichael."

She extended her hands on his thighs and pressed him towards her. "Then, double that bonus of yours. Enough foreplay, sir."

"I think I am ready for the second round." Jack ceased his grinding only to steer himself inside her. Once within her, he cautiously propelled to a leisurely pace at first. With each movement, he increased the measure of both his thrusts and his rasping her breasts. He then abruptly hesitated, much to his companion's chagrin.

"What's wrong?" she grilled.

"I forgot to put on the condom, I should…" He budged out of her.

"I took my pill today, so, I'm good for the month. I should have said something sooner."

"Well, in that case…." He slotted back in and carried on. Abbie couldn't distinguish the more enjoyable sensation: his impaling her or the corset's grating her nipples. The beat persisted and the moment of climax was only a heartbeat away.

"Abbie, I…." He breathed in huffs as he quickened. However, her body couldn't seem to reach orgasm, despite her evident dampness. She paid no mind: this was Jack's birthday present and she wasn't going to mar the occasion because her body failed to complete her arousal.

"Come on, Jack, show your maid how important she is to you." She poured all of her emotion (and her hormones) into the avowal.

"Oh, God, Abbie…I…." He was also speechless as his climax flooded both their cores. She matched his resulting scream to mask the frigidity. The twosome lingered in their enervated daze before he reluctantly withdrew out of her.

"Wait. A good maid has to clean up." She wearily hunched to his saturated penis and accumulated their combined fluids into her maw.

"Abbie, you don't have…" He was too worn-out to articulate any words.

"I might as well; I already went this far."

She returned to him and kissed him on the lips, exchanging their respective tastes. With the fantasy at its conclusion, all was left was the cuddling.

"I can't believe I did that," she disbelievingly remarked.

"I can't either. So, how am I going to pay you back?"

The firebrand revived her ominous grin. "I'll think of something. Happy birthday."

"Thank you. It was certainly worth the clandestine approach."

She noted her lack of orgasm, yet it was irrelevant: her boyfriend was suitably pleased. Nothing else mattered to her.

"'Double that bonus of yours'. Oh…" She recalled her prior banter in humiliation.

He howled in laughter. "You've been there, Abbie. People say odd things when it comes to sex, although, your use of the term 'sir' was personally amusing to me."

"Don't tell me one of your other lovers used it?" She was going to hang herself with one of her stockings if proved true.

"Actually, no. There was a guy I knew from the office; his name was Ben Stone. He was the E.A.D.A. before me and he always had this habit of calling everyone — especially criminals — sir. So, that rather brought me back. Nice guy."

"Now, I really feel foolish," she jibed in her self-depreciation.

"I wouldn't worry. I enjoyed your show, anyway." He angled for another kiss.

"Kiss me after I get this off me and I shower. And, no, you may _not_ join me; you've had enough for now." She tormented the poor chap with an enthralling swagger as she headed to the shower.

"So, this is what it's like when someone loves you," Jack faintly affirmed to himself.

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The inspiration for the costume was from the maid character of the "Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance" Game Boy Advance video game for those interested.

I'll address the inclusion of the second ex-wife in the Author's Note on the next Jack piece. I don't feel like elaborating it here.

And, lastly, the transcription for the Harmon/Sehorn article I mentioned above is available upon request via the usual channels.

Other than that, leave a review if you wish and see you in the funny papers.


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